Echoes
by The Lich
Summary: Awaking after The Blast, a survivor develops powers of his own. Now, he must regain both his identity and his memory, uncovering who he is and what happened to him. Original character, during the first game . Rated M for violence and language.
1. Chapter 1: Rude Awakening

**Please Note: I do not own inFamous, or any related works and characters. All rights go to Sucker Punch and Sony Computer Entertainment.**

_"It must be for real,_

_'Cause now I can feel._

_And I didn't mind,_

_It's not my kind._

_It's not my time,_

_To wonder why." - Glycerine by Bush._

A pulsing sensation; a repeated pouding that rattled his skull. A grunt, a gasp of air and he was breathing. Life returned to his body, slowly and painfully, the numb feeling replaced with a screaming fire pain. Whatever he was laying on, even with the pain he felt, was hard and uncomfortable. The man eased himself up, sight returning from the hazy, blurry vision.

The surroundings were ruined. Smoking buildings, blasted concrete, devastated cars and bodies of the dead. The air was heavy with the stench of smoke, burning urban material and death. He stood for a moment, taking in the carnage. And then, the urge to run overpowered him, his legs moving on their own, racing down the ruined street, leaping over chunks of upturned concrete, weaving past pieces of buildings and fallen metal beams

_'What happened?'_ he asked himself. _'Where am I?'_

He ran until he could run no further, collapsing into an alley way. As much as his body ached, sleep overpowered him, drifting off into that dream world that masks and hides away the cruelities of reality.

But his sleep did not last long. He was awakened by a prodding, and then was struck by a blunt object. He hit the pavment, blood dripping from his lips and nose. Standing around him were ragged people, searching his possessions, meager as they were, the remains of the clothes he had on his back.

"Hit him again, just to be sure." said the lone woman of the group. "Then we can take his crap without a fight."

"Should we? I mean, just look at him...guy's had enough shit already, being that close to the blast." said a man's voice.

"Yeah. What's the point? This guy has nothing but shit on him anyways." came another voice, the man holding the now bloodied pipe.

"Hit him anyway," said the woman.

"Yeah, yeah."

The people were ragged, some bloodied and injured. They all had fear in their eyes, and perhaps a little madness from that fear. The ragged man with the pipe raised the metal tube over his head, poised to strike, like an executioner hefting up his axe. The downed man raised his arm as a shield to protect himself. As the pipe came down, the downed man squeezed his eyes shut. All sound was drowned out by a loud bang. His eyes opened, and the crowd was on the ground, hands over their heads. The man with the pipe was crushed into the adjacent wall of the alleyway, as if pushed there by a great force.

That was when the man realized his hands weren't normal anymore. In the center of his palms, both of them, were strange holes...and they didn't look like they were made by an explosion or anything. Along his arms were smaller, similar holes. As he stood and faced the frightened crowd, a new sensation filled him; like a static charge, a vibrating, moving energy that filled every fiber of his being.

"Did you see that? He fuckin' blasted Tim!" whispered one of the scared crowd-goers to another. "Did you see that?"

"Shut the fuck up, man! He'll fuckin' kill us if he hears you!" retorted the other.

He looked down at the crowd.

"You tried to mug me, to kill me, for what? What do you think I should do to you?"

"Hey, man," said the woman, starting to get up. "We didn't mean any harm, okay? Take it easy, pal, and we'll just get-"

He pointed his hand at her and a screeching blast of concussive sound flared out of the whole in the palm, blasting the woman away like a rag-doll.

_'What the fuck happened to me? What is this?'_

The rest of the crowd were beginning for their lives, but he felt no sympathy or regret. Anger was welling up within him instead, and disgust. They had the balls to try and kill him to take his stuff, and now they're asking for mercy? The nerve! He grabbed one of them, lifted him to his feet and stared into his face.

"I'll tell you something," said the man to his hostage. "I'm gonna let you go. Your friends? Ain't so lucky."

He unleashed another sound blast at the crowd. The force crushed concrete and sent the men flying about. He then turned back to his hostage. A reverberating echo rattled the alleyway.

"You leave this place, and you better tell whatever _pieces-of-shit friends _you have left, that...Echo isn't gonna take any of their shit, you hear?"

The man nodded, quite frightened.

"And if I see you again, you're dead." Echo let the man go and watched him race down the alley and disappear behind the corner.

Echo looked up at the buildings and the sky. Something was beginning. He could tell that, at least. But he had no recollection of what happened before, why he woke up in a crater, who he was, what he was now. He looked at his hands and arms. His powers were strange...like something out of a damn comic book, and he didn't know what to do or make of them.

_'No going back now,'_ he thought. _'Wherever "back" is...'_

As he walked down the alley, he tried to remember but couldn't. He did, however, come up with a plan. Survive. And find answers. This city's got to have some, anyways, and he was determined to find them.


	2. Chapter 2: Smoke and Monsters

**Please Note: I do not own inFamous, or any related works and characters. All rights go to Sucker Punch and Sony Computer Entertainment.**

_"Temptation befell me,_

_Darkness is calling for me,_

_This is the path that I choose._

_This is the path that I choose."_ - _The Path I Choose by Iced Earth_.

He had spent the night in an alley, hiding behind a dumpster after having nabbed a jacket off a man on the street. It was a long, heavy coat which made him hot but it hid the holes on his arms. He remarked on how the holes were like miniature vibration generators or wind tunnels...

His head swam and hurt when he tried to recall what happened. No one seemed sure; even the news was still trying to piece together the chain of events. What was known was that there was an explosion and the city was now under a quarantine, making it little more than a cage to keep the people within trapped. Who triggered the explosion, how, and why were still unknowns. He didn't remember what he was doing at the time of the blast. There were images in his head when he tried; fuzzy white haze and sounds that registered as if they were underwater. Murky and distorted.

_Hell, he was still unsure about who he was_.

At the mouth of the alley, he saw groups of people race through the streets. Only about a day from the explosion, he was already used to this. The gangs within the city terrorzied the populace. The nights sang with gunshots and the days were not much different. This time, however, there were no gunshots. There were no terrified screams or laughter from gang members. Echo eased himself up and left the alley, breaking out to a run to catch up with a group of people.

"Hey! What's going on?" he asked.

"Didn't you hear?" one man replied. "There is a clinic or something that just opened!"

"Yeah!" said a girl, running with the man. "They're giving out free medicine and food!"

"What? Where?"

"By the bridge! Everyone's going there." the man said.

Echo followed the group. As he passed through the street, more and more clumps of people were racing to the bridge.

_'This is gonna be bad...so many people...'_

Ahead, the bridge loomed omniously, spearing the sky with it's height. Around the base of the bridge and the ramp connecting it to the street, there was a huge crowd of people. Mingled throughout the crowds were stretchers, some of them occupied. Other people, clad in white clothes of EMT uniforms worked through the crowd, talking and passing out small kits of rations, supplies or medicine. Echo approached the crowd and was immediately bumped into, nudged and pushed. His stomach hurt from the lack of food, unsure when it was the last time he ate or drank. He didn't know if he was sick, and we wasn't injured, save for minor scrapes, bumps and bruises. All he needed was a meal, any meal, to get through the day. Around him, he became aware of the suffering of others: people were seriously injured, some with gashes, horrifying burns, and others with missing limbs. Mothers held up their children, crying, begging to be the first to get medicine and a meal. Other people shouted and pushed and tugged, clawing like ravenous animals. The motion and sensation of it all made him suddenly _sick_.

"Ladies and gentlebeings!" called a voice amplified by a megaphone.

At once, the crowd stilled. Echo turned to the street, where the voice was originating from. Standing there in the street, arranged in a line, was a small group people clad in black clothes. Most clutched guns, but a small percentage were empty handed. At their head, was a thin, lanky man who clutched the megaphone. He was dressed in an almost formal manner, with a vest and tie, slacks and black shoes. His hair, brown, was loose and styled and his eyes were hazel colored. His features were slim and angular.

"Stand aside!" he spoke, raising the megaphone to his lips. "On behalf of our leader, the Black Fog claims this clinic, and it's supplies, as our own territory! Failure to comply will be met in force. _You have been warned_!"

"The fuck?" Echo heard someone say from the crowd.

"_One!_" the man with the megaphone spoke.

"Is this a joke?"

"Fuck this!"

"Screw you!"

"_Two!_"

"Piss off! We've been waiting here for hours."

"My children need these supplies more than you thugs!" a woman screamed.

"_Three!_" the man boomed.

He lowered the megaphone and smiled broadly. With his free hand, he geustured to the others in his group. The ones with guns stepped forward, cocked their weapons and opened fire. There was immediately chaos. People were cut down in blood red haze and splinters of meat. Others ducked, screamed and ran in all directions. Echo was knocked to his feet and nearly trampled by the myriad of feet. He saw a medic go down via a gunshot to the head, blood spray kicked up in the air. Echo got to his feet. A bullet planted itself into the pavement inches from his feet and another whizzed by his head.

_'Shit!'_

He looked to run, but the crowd was still dispersing and the black clad gangsters were nearing closer, spraying bullets and death in nearly every direction. Cursing internally, Echo raised his left hand and loosed a screeching spear of sound at two of the gunmen. Pavement splintered and kicked up dust and the two thugs were demolished.

"What the fuck!" he heard one of the thugs scream.

"_Conduit!_ Shoot him! Shoot him, dammit!" another cried.

They turned on his direction, raising their guns and fired. Echo swiped his right hand and a plume of sound exploded, annihilating the shooters. One bullet embedded itself into his right shoulder.

"Bastards..." Echo breathed. "Screw you!"

He lunged forward and threw a punch at a grouping of the thugs. A large bulbous pulse of vibrating sound flew from his fist and knocked them aside like toys, leaving a crater in the sidewalk. He whirled, caught sight of more approaching gangsters, and slapped his hands together. Another pulse of sound collided with the attackers, plowing them aside, crushing limbs and smashing guns. And then Echo saw him, the man with the megaphone, standing alone, watching with the smile still on his face. He geustured for Echo to approach, a dare to attack. A mocking gesuture through and through. Echo growled and threw another sonic-powered punch, but before the blast hit the fellow, he disappeared in a puff of smoke.

He reappeared in another puff of smoke behind Echo, delivering a swift chop to his neck and smacking the megaphone over his head. Echo went down before he could react, the sidewalk coming up to meet him.

"Let's kill him," said one of the unarmed Black Fog thugs.

"Not so fast." the man with the megaphone said. "He's a Conduit, like us."

"So?" the one who spoke, a very muscular brute of a man, barked. "He's a fucking pest."

"That's your answer for everything...just kill things." said another unarmed gangster, this time a pale woman in a corset-styled dress with laces.

"Leave him," said the man with the megaphone. "It's the least mercy we can show for such an amusing display. After all, we got what we were sent for. Supplies are ours. Get to work securing them, Ames."

The big man moved out of sight, but the woman and the lanky man stayed.

"Not so fast!" exclaimed a voice from beyond view.

Again, chaos ensued and the sound of more gunshots rang out. Ames fell back into view, bleeding from bullet wounds in one of his arms. The girl was already dashing away and the man with the megaphone tossed the device aside. Gunshots clattered against the pavements.

"Ah...I expected you," he said to an unseen person. "But, alas, my men are all put destroyed. And I don't feel like risking some of our better ones yet. Lucky you. Ames! Pull back. Maybe next time."

He smiled and then was gone, leaving wispy smoke behind. Ames reared back, half turned. Before he was gone, he glanced down at Echo. All Echo saw was his foot come down. And then darkness.

* * *

"Is he gonna be alright?"

Echo recognized the voice. It was gruff, harsh. Familiar. Voice from the street. Unknown person. Before...he was stomped out. The voice flooded his sensations, powerful, commanding. But the pain returned, white hot agony that he felt in his head. He couldn't open his eyes. They were stuck shut. Or maybe they were gone? Crushed into the pavement by Ame's brutish stomp.

"He'll be fine." another voice replied. "Physical pain is such an easy thing to correct. He'll be fixed up in just about a minute..."

"What about those?"

He felt something prod his arm.

"Those were there before the fight. I'm not sure what they are. They aren't results of surgery or self mutilation. Not gunshots or wounds." the second voice said. "Maybe you can ask him when I get him up."

"Conduit?"

"From the looks of the scene where we found him, yes."

Something clicked and he felt a hand on his face. And then his eyes flared open. The light was intense and blinded him momentarily. But his sight returned, slowly. He was greeted by the sight of a young woman and a middle aged man standing over him. She was a thin, short, reddish-blonde beauty. She wore black lipstick and there were piercings in her eyebrows. He was a round featured individual, with a few age lines creasing his face. His hair was black with a slight dusting of grey.

"_Ugh_..." Echo tried to sit up.

The man put a hand on his chest.

"Easy. Don't exert yourself too much. Took a bullet, literally. And a rather nasty smash to the noggin." the man spoke.

"What?"

"Oh, you're fine. But you might want to take it wasy for a while, son."

"What were you doing down by the bridge?" the young woman asked.

Echo estimated her age to be in the early twenties. It was reflected by her demeanor and her style of dress. She wore a black vest with the sleeves torn, slashed and ripped jeans and a leather halter-top. The sides of her head were shaved short and her reddish-blonde hair hung over the right side in a fringe-like manner. Her eyes were tough, piercing, almost predatory. But despite the harsh quality of her person, she was beautiful.

"Trying to get food."

"You killed those Black Fog asshats?"

"Yeah."

"How?"

"These," he raised up his arms.

"You're a Conduit?" she demanded more than asked.

"I don't know what the fuck you're talking about, lady. Where the hell am I?"

"Fuck off. You're a Conduit, yes or no?"

"Ashley," the man said softly. "You should ease up..."

She turned swiftly and glared at the man. He recoiled and seemed to shrink.

"I mean, ma'am, he just woke up. Probably doesn't know anything." he said. "Son, a Conduit is, well...a person with special...talents. Like you, presumably...and like us. That's how you killed the Black Fog goons attacking you, right?"

"Yeah..." Echo nodded. "I...yeah. I guess."

"What'd they want with you?" Ashley questioned.

"Nothing! They attacked the crowd. I just happened to be there. They wanted the supplies. The medicine and food."

"How'd you kill them?"

"I...just _thought_ about it." Echo shrugged. "I dunno how I do it. The holes...or something. Now, tell me. Where the fuck am I? Who are you?"

The man shifted and walked to Echo's side. He undid the straps on the stretcher and pushed away the bright light.

"Well, I am Theodore." the man replied. "That is Ashley. And you're in, well, our base."

"Base?"

"I'm the leader of the Mongrels." Ashley spoke up, stepping back as Theodore finished undoing the straps.

"What?" Echo asked.

"We're a gang, just like those Black Fog shits." Ashley shrugged. "I'm not going to lie to you. But we pulled _your_ sorry ass from the street instead of letting you bleed out like a pig."

"Why?"

"_Why?_ You handled them like they were nothing, that's why." Ashley said. "And in return for saving your ass, you're going to join us."

Echo paused. Of course, there was a catch. Pulled from the street only to be slapped in irons as a servant of this gang, no better than the Reapers or this new gang, the Black Fog. He stepped off the stretcher. Theodore pulled away behind Ashley. It occured to Echo that the room they were in was made of metal, with padded walls. The lights were out, broken tubes of shattered glass in the ceiling. The only light was the standing swivelling light by the stretcher. The place looked like an insanity ward in a hospital. Echo stretched and faced Ashley.

"And if I refuse?"

"You _won't_." she snorted. "But, if you do, you are more than welcome in trying to leave. Good luck surviving out there with no food, shelter and the Black Fog hunting you. And if they don't kill you, we eventually will."

Somehow, he knew she wasn't lying. She was a powerful presence and he knew next to nothing about the capability of the men under her.

"What do you want from me?" he asked.

"Simple. You join the gang, you do what you want. You get a place to stay, food, whatever you want." Ashley said. "But you follow my rules and my orders. I want my claim in this city."

"And what exactly is your 'claim'?"

"_All of it_." she smirked. "We've got other Conduits. We've got guns and pipes and explosives. This city'll be mine soon enough. And if anyone gets in a way, I make sure to teach them not to fuck with the Mongrels."

She said it again. Conduit. She called him a Conduit. Theodore said they were Conduit's too. They must have some knowledge of what happened. About these powers cropping up in people across the city. About his powers.

"There ain't nothing out there for you anymore. The only place here for you is us." she said. "We gotta deal?"

Echo knew she was right and sagged his shoulders.

"Deal," he shook her hand.

"Good. Theo, get a bed ready for him in the dorms. And tell some of the others I don't want any bullshit concerning the new guy." Ashley ordered. "You got a name?"

"Echo?"

"Bullshit name. You got a real one or just a nice little superhero name?"

"No."

She furrowed her brows and stared into his face.

"Whatever. Well, Echo, you're in the Mongrels now." she smirked, almost mockingly. "You want the basic tour or the 'grand-fucking-package'?"

_'Fun...'_

He smiled. "The grand package sounds good."

"Come with me," she motioned and opened the thick metal door that lead out of the room.

He followed without question. At the doorway, he turned and peered back at the room, at the stretcher. It seemed odd, almost as if the stretcher was a life that he had only hours ago and now, now he was leaving it behind to become a gangster. It was almost a cruel irony but it was his only shot for survival and answers. With one last look at the life behind him, he turned and followed Ashley out of the room.


End file.
